No flat filet of anchovie
Is half so snug as you and me
Packed oh so cozy, close and tight
Tube-travellers on a Southwest flight

Tucked in a soft reclining chair
We breathe the keroscentic air
Peanuts and cheese-nips for a feast
Cuisine de Southwest, flying east

With nearly nothing on our plate
Let's use our near-starvation state
Creatively, for we can fly it
As an impromptu enroute diet

Charon the captain of our flight
We jet across the Styxian night
Yet hopeful that beyond the gates
Some bona fi-de' food awaits

Airline Infernal ! Flight Eternal !
Scribble, scribble in your journal
Never, ever go again, with this mechanicien
No more the lines, no more the crunch
But if you just must; pack a lunch.